Being There
by ThyPenOrThySword
Summary: Mary and Marshall interact on a seemingly innocent holiday.  One-shot, rated K  for language.


**A/N:** Hello, all. Welcome to Being There, my first fanfic of the IPS fandom. It is just a brief oneshot, inspired by a recent holiday. I hope you all enjoy it, and, please, leave commentary. The story is set roughly around 'Something A-mish' and 'I'm a Liver Not a Fighter'.

**IMPORTANT NOTE: **The italicized text near the bottom should be read a if the "strikethrough" function were used instead, placing a line horizontally across the words to show that they have been crossed out.

**Being There: An IPS Story**

He was driving home from Abigail's to get a change of clothes when he got the call. As soon as the first tone began, he knew exactly who was calling, and he knew what he needed to do. Pulling over to the side of the road, he waved an apology to the driver behind him.

Those same instincts drove him to skip his usual inquiry and go right to what he needed to know. Voice strangely gruff for so late in the morning, he simply asked, "Where are you?"

For a moment there was silence on the other end.

"CVS."

Turning the car around – once again waving an apology – Marshal Marshall Mann instructed the woman he knew so well to stay where she was, and told her that he would be right there. Cringing slightly, he let the speedometer creep upwards, knowing that she wasn't likely to do as he said for too long. She said nothing, but he kept the line going, just in case.

Marshall scanned the area of the parking lot almost absentmindedly, looking for a spot easy to get out of in a hurry and close to where a blond woman sat in a leather jacket designed for weather at least 20 degrees cooler, Fahrenheit. This was routine, a process so ingrained in his mind that he had plenty of concentration left to puzzle out what could have upset her at a drug store.

Maybe they were out of the right chocolate.

As Marshal Marshall Mann sat down beside Marshal Mary Shannon on the curb, she turned away from him. He watched her for a moment, observing the glow the sun left in her hair and the defensive posture she strictly held.

"Father's day was first celebrated in Falmont, West Virginia on June 5th, 1908 and was made a national holiday by President Nixon in 1972 after several decades of debate."

Mary still refused to look at him, grasping something tightly, but gently, in her callused hands.

"Is that who I need to shoot for ruining my fucking day?"

He placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, uncertain of how she would react to the contact. Gently, he spoke her name, encouraging her to turn and face him.

"Mare? Look at me." After waiting, and receiving no response, he continued, slowly, "It was not your fault."

At last she turned around to look at him, staring at him as if his forehead had sprouted wings. "What the hell are you talking about, Doofus? I'm the one who had sex without a condom."

Marshall closed his eyes slightly in exasperation at her familiar diversionary tactics. "I'm talking about your father. It is, after all Father's day. Knowing you, you are probably a writhing maelstrom of guilt over some perceived flaw in yourself that has since resulted in over 30 years of father-less days. Stop."

Mary stared at him for a long moment, her gaze locked on his face. After a lengthy moment that bordered on awkward, she looked away to stare into the parking lot. "Honestly, Marshall, this must be the first year that those thoughts haven't crossed my mind." At his confused look, she continued, "Yes, Doofus, you're wrong. Get over it."

As his partner sighed and shifted in an attempt to rearrange her clothing and get comfortable, Marshall struggled to avert his eyes from her newly developed – assets, shall we say? - and focus on what she was saying.

"So, you aren't upset about your father? You aren't filled to the brim with rants against commercial exploitation of emotional insecurities and misguided cliches?"

"Nope. Sorry to disappoint."

"Apology accepted. And you claim your moods aren't being affected by hormones."

"Shut it, Pervis, or I'll shut it for you."

"Noted."

For a moment they sat once again in silence, each comforted and reassured by the routine banter. As Marshall searched for the right words to say to prompt her without spooking her, Mary continued to fidget with her clothes and wonder how much she would have to spend on new bras. Damn, she hates shopping.

After a time, Marshall broke he silence once again. "How _is _our little witness?" He noted the way her grip tightened on the still-mysterious object, and speculated as to the cause.

"I have to piss like a race horse and can't stop eating crunchy peanut butter. Is that normal?"

"While some of your symptoms seem to be manifesting a bit early, yes. Also, keep in mind that you are eating-"

Mary cut Marshall off with a dangerous look. "If you even think about finishing that sentence by saying that I am eating for two, I will chop off your balls, coat them in hot sauce, and force feed them to you for brunch."

"Noted."

Another moment passed. "Have you picked up the proper vitamins yet? Proper nutrition is vital for early development, especially with mothers your age."

"You aren't exactly a spring chicken yourself, alright? And, yes. I started taking them last week."

"Good. Now, who wants pie?"

Mary groaned, staring longingly into the distance at the thought of pie. "I hate you, but I can't. I promised Brandi I would go over to her place and work on plans for the wedding."

Marshall shrugged, grinning. "Your loss. If you promise to behave, I might drop by and bring you a slice."

Mary snorted. "Yeah, and I might enjoy myself looking at table cloth samples. Don't make promises you don't intend to keep."

Suddenly growing serious, Marshall looked Mary straight in the eyes. "Never."

Mary met his gaze measure for measure. Fully aware of the wide array of emotions displayed on her face, she debated her next move. Finally, she held out the plastic grocery bag with the mystery object inside. _And behind door number 3..._

She spoke as she offered it to him, her voice gruff with what may or may not have been suppressed emotion. "I know, Doofus. Actually, that's sort of why I got you this. See you tomorrow."

With that, she turned away and walked to her car on the other end of the parking lot as he stared after her. As her engine tumbled to life and her god-forsaken car led her out of the drive, he tugged open the bag in his arms.

Inside the bag there was an envelope. Inside the envelope there was a card. Inside the card there was a message.

"Dear Doofus,

_I don't even know why I just bought this stupid card_

_You know I hate all the sentimental shit people surround themselves with_

_I know I haven't always been the best partner_

Happy Father's Day.

Thanks for being there.

MS"

As he tucked the card into his jacket, Marshal Marsall Mann smiled.


End file.
